Monthly Archives: November 2012

I’m almost done the recording phase of my first solo album! (10 female rap tracks so far!)
I’ll be officially releasing the album at the end of March.
But there are many things to think of before I can party with you.
I want to do this right!
I’ll be sending off pre-releases to radio stations, blogs, magazines and anyone who’ll listen.

If you know of any journalists, bloggers, djs, have any contacts or advice of any kind to give me (unless it’s ‘Get a real job, honey!’) please shoot a much-appreciated email to- iamxania@gmail.com

I’m doing this completely d.i.y. and need all the help I can get!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!

The Barfly, Montreal- A place where people sit and drink for so long they begin to resemble muttering furniture. I used to go to Barfly years ago, when I was dating a chubby, hockey-loving pot-dealer. Beer was cheap and company was gritty.

I disappeared for 5 years on an extended tour. Playing hundreds of shows as a member of Trike, forgetting about Barfly and its indomitability.

On an adventure in Berlin, I met a Canadian with steady eye-contact and a vibrant stage presence named David. He asked Trike to perform at his events several times and we did. (His lover Iwona was always there, supporting the performers in spite of her pregnant belly.)

A couple weeks ago, David asked if I wanted to perform solo during his first Montreal event, to take place at Barfly.

I agreed despite the fear that quickly piled up around me. I practiced and practiced to keep the stage fright at bay. But it kept coming back.

Last night I went on stage alone for the first time, with new songs to play. Friends, family, my mom, strangers, Iwona with a bouncing baby on her lap all smiled at me from the dark room.

My first show couldn’t have gone better. I feel happy and inspired. The place was packed and the other acts were awesome. Even if future shows don’t go so well, the first show is very symbolic to me.

But part of me is avoiding the inevitable.
(Job? Place to live?)
Panicky thoughts jangle in my head.

And then days like this come.
Cold days. Where the wind is still and can’t disturb the yellow leaves.

Only 5 days until my trial version of Ableton expires.
Only 7 songs recorded. I must keep working.

But staring at the screen hurts & walking with the sun piercing my eyes feels good.
I take a break.
I sit on a swing that’s too small for my big hips.

The park is silent. No children, no dogs, no joggers.
The wooden skeleton of a hockey rink waits for frost.
Forgotten Halloween decorations droop and don’t look so threatening.
The houses and lawns seem to take a slow, deep breath.
Nothing dances, everything rests.

I’m making my first solo album.
It’s been bubbling under my skin for years. But I was in a band that used all my creative focus. We made albums together but they weren’t really mine.
I thought I didn’t have the skill to arrange a full album of songs on my own. But opportunity can sometimes disguise itself in strange and heart-breaking ways. (I’ll spare the depressing details and jump to the present.)

I find myself in Canada, surrounded by people who believe in me. I’m taking this window of time and healing to make an album.

I’ve downloaded the 30-day trial version of Ableton live. My brother’s mic and sound-card stand stoically in my bedroom. I didn’t know how to make music with ableton, but after two full days and 16 hours of tutorials, I pushed through the learning-curve and had arranged a beat.

I went to the museum of fine arts yesterday. Smooth portraits of Jesus and crude clay figures with enormous hips stared me from their plexiglass homes. And I thought: artists are funny. Making all these things to look at. Giving glimpses into what they thought was important at that moment. A golden field of corn, a naked woman, a feeling of anger, lust, love. Those moments, those thoughts, those ideas have passed. But they’re somehow frozen in the artwork. To be re-interpreted, misinterpreted, criticized or adored.

Sometimes I get a strong idea. It hits me like a vivid, shiny, ringing bell. I think “I must paint it, I must write it, I must sing it.” Either I work on the idea or ignore it. If I ignore the idea, it slips back into nothingness. I must feed my creative ideas straight away, or they’ll die. Sometimes I think back on an idea I’ve had and notice that the moment has passed and I cannot retrieve it. I cannot think in the same way I did, I cannot create in the same way I would’ve if I had jumped on the idea and followed through.

I think everyone has these moments. Moments of shiny, ringing ideas. But the moments may pass unnoticed, negated or scoffed at by the little evil critic that lives in the corner of every artist’s brain. “It’s been done. It’s stupid. You suck,” the critic whispers.

I am 15 days into Ableton’s trial and I’m addicted. I now have 5 rap songs recorded and I hope to make 5 more.

I need to take advantage of this creative storm before it passes and all is still again.